


Lunch Breaks Are Fifteen Minutes

by voxmyriad



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Clothed Sex, Desk Sex, F/M, First Time, Miss P is aggressive when she knows what she wants, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scout is fine with that, Swing and a Miss, This was too long to post on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:39:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxmyriad/pseuds/voxmyriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Miss Pauling has a terrible morning, she wants something more than soup and a sandwich during her lunch break. Luckily, Scout is in the right place at the right time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunch Breaks Are Fifteen Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first porn I've written in probably five years. Please excuse the mess. Thanks to [preludeinz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/preludeinz) for the prompt and [valoscope](http://valoscope.tumblr.com) for the enabling and the soundtrack <3
> 
> [Come On Closer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWaqqWUfneg) by Jem was playing on repeat for almost the entire time. It shows?

It had been a long day. Most days were long days, that was the job, but it had been a long day _already_ and Miss Pauling was only just walking toward her office for her fifteen minute lunch break. She had never quite known where she ranked in the overall organizational hierarchy of TF Industries, but today her job was apparently to be the lowest one, if the irate phone calls she'd been fielding all morning were any indication.

_I need a vacation._ Of course, a vacation was utterly out of the question, barely to be thought of. _I need a break._ She was heading toward her break now. _I need someone to lavish me with attention, and maybe an orgasm or two, that's what I really need._

She turned the corner and there he was, at the other end of the hallway, as if the gods themselves had overheard her furious private thoughts. Scout looked occupied with something, but his face lit up as soon as he saw her. They were the same distance from her door. She kept walking, measured steps, even as the world started fading away at the corners of her perception, focus narrowing to this hallway, these steps, and the way Scout's t-shirt was riding up on the right side just enough to reveal a strip of skin.

"Hey, Miss Pauling, I was just—"

"Scout, come in here," she said as she breezed past him. "Close the door."

He did as she asked easily, without a trace of suspicion on his face as he leaned against the closed door. He took a breath and she cut him off before he could say a word.

"I have fifteen minutes free. It's supposed to be for lunch. For the next fifteen minutes—fourteen minutes and forty-five seconds—I want to get fucked, very thoroughly. If you're not up for it, I know where Medic is."

It was rare to find Scout at a loss for words, and any other time she might have enjoyed the novelty of it, but this time she was actually impatient to hear his answer.

"I, what, _Medic,_ whaddaya mean _Medic,_ I—"

"Scout, yes or no."

"Well, I mean, _yeah,_ but—"

"Good." He'd pushed off the door when she mentioned Medic but she pushed him back against it with an audible thump as her mouth slanted over his. Vaguely, she wondered if anyone had heard that, and then whether or not this office was soundproof, but then Scout's hands were on her waist, sliding up her back to cradle the back of her neck. He tipped his head and she didn't need to stand on tiptoe anymore, then she didn't need to stand at all and her small yelp was lost in his mouth as he scooped her up by her thighs and carried her across the room to her desk.

_I watch you all the time but I always forget how strong you are,_ she thought but didn't say, opting instead to nip at his lower lip, then did it again harder when it made him groan in a way she'd never heard. This wasn't how she'd planned to do this, at least not the first time, but there wasn't time for second thoughts, there wasn't time for re-planning, there wasn't time for _planning,_ there was thirteen minutes and forty-nine seconds.

She pulled off his hat and tossed it into a corner of her office. When he pulled back, confused, she shot him a look over her glasses like butter wouldn't dare to melt in her mouth and pushed down on his shoulder. She didn't expect the prickling rush that swept through just beneath her stomach when he dropped to his knees after only a moment's hesitation.

Thanking her lucky stars that the team was stationed at one of the warmer bases and she'd opted against stockings today, she shifted to the edge of the desk and let her knees fall open. Scout was still watching her as if he hadn't been granted permission to touch even as his hands slid up the outside of her thighs and edged beneath her skirt. The wraps on his palms scratched against her skin. She liked it more than she'd expected, and she almost asked him to do that again, but there was no time.

Twelve minutes, twenty-three seconds. She braced her hands on the desk and lifted her hips as his fingers hooked into her underwear—plain cotton and serviceable, but at least it was black—and pulled, so gently she wondered if he thought he might tear them. He hadn't said a word since she'd kissed him, had it only been two minutes ago, it seemed as though they'd been here for hours.

It occurred to her for just a moment to wonder if he'd done this before, until a finger roughed over with callouses slid all the way from her clit to the end of her folds in one long stroke. It was both more than she'd expected and far less than she needed and it had her gritting her teeth against a yelp. The finger moved up again, curious, exploring, and Miss Pauling chanced a look down to find Scout watching her, over the hem of her skirt.

"You are so freakin' beautiful," he said frankly and didn't give her a chance to respond before his tongue traced a path up her slit and her hips canted into his mouth entirely of their own accord. She thought he might have laughed, at least it felt like he laughed, but she forgot to be annoyed or embarrassed when he began lapping at her in earnest, and pursed his lips against her clit as he slipped one finger inside her, so easily she almost didn't notice until he crooked it and she _really_ did.

Whimpers weren't as loud as yelps. She didn't bother to muffle hers, and Scout let out that groan again, the one that seemed to come straight from the center of him. Her fingers tunneled into his hair, already mussed from being beneath his cap all day, and she tugged. It was like spurring him into a gallop and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from making any noise as his thumb glided slickly over her clit.

Eight minutes? Seven? Less? She was losing track of time, she thought hazily, as he added a second finger and her back arched against an untidy stack of papers. Her grip on his hair tightened and she tugged again, upward this time, a little harder than necessary if the wince Scout tried to hide was anything to go by.

"Scout," and her voice sounded _ravaged,_ her mother would be horrified, "come here, right now."

He did, of course he did, he'd steal the sun for her if she told him to, and their hands knocked against each other as they both reached for his belt at the same time. She settled for running her hands beneath his shirt, over sleek planes of muscle. Digging into them with her nails was unavoidable, as was watching his pupils blow wider when she did. Taking notes, even now, while his hand slid up and back down his cock and the tip pressed into her.

He paused then, he paused and waited until her hands slid up to his shoulders and one leg hooked over his hip. An imperfect thrust, a second, she was slick but they were still fumbling, and finally he pressed inside. They both went still at the immediacy of it, but for only a moment before Miss Pauling rolled her hips and Scout answered it.

There was no finesse to it as they moved together, Miss Pauling's hands digging into Scout's back, Scout's hips snapping forward with enough force to make the desk wobble. It was a _fuck,_ fast and filthy and _just_ what she'd wanted. Upside down, her eyes grazed the edge of the clock.

Four minutes, thirteen seconds.

"Harder," she breathed, finding another grip on his hair, twisting, spurring him as her hips lifted to meet every thrust. "Faster, Scout, _god,_ " and her words were choked off by a cry that absolutely could not be stopped, or mistaken for anything else. The pile of papers behind her collapsed as she fell back across her desk, she'd regret that later, but for now all she could see was Scout above her, watching her, almost flying apart at the seams, desperate to come, desperate to please, desperate for everything in the world.

Her hands slid over his waist, her nails raked his back as she pulled herself flush against him and her mouth found his. She could taste herself on his tongue and it made her groan, and that made his breath hitch. She caught all his whispered curses and praises against her lips as his hips stuttered to a halt and his forehead dropped to rest against hers.

Two minutes, fifty seconds. She'd bruised his lip with her teeth. That would be hard to explain away, but Respawn would take care of it. Respawn would take care of everything, including the red lines her nails had left across his back. Respawn would not take care of the way he looked at her when he lifted his head.

It had been just what she wanted. She told herself that a second time. Then she reached for the box of tissues on her desk. She sat up, he moved back, they put themselves back together as best they could in silence. She stood, winced a little--she'd be feeling this for the rest of the day, possibly into tomorrow--and walked him to the door.

"Um." _Eloquent as ever, Pauling. What does he **see** in you?_ "Thank you."

"Anytime, Miss Pauling." He still sounded a little stunned, but he put a hand on the door before she could open it. "Before I go, can I just ask...what was that about? You okay?"

"I, oh." Now a flush rose to her cheeks for the first time. "I had a bad phone call. A series of phone calls. Stupid, really. I just wanted…" _Someone to look at **me.**_

The corner of Scout's mouth turned up in a half-smile. "Any time," he repeated, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Half her bun had fallen out, she realized as her hands flew to it. "Whatever you need, you know I'm good for it."

"I...yes, I do know."

"Good." He opened the door, then tossed one of his bright, toothy smiles to her. "I hope your day gets better, Miss Pauling."

She stepped to the door to watch him run down the hall and disappear around the corner before closing the door to her office and leaning against it.

Zero minutes, nineteen seconds.

She took down her hair.

Precisely fifteen minutes after her lunch break had begun, her phone rang. She put her hair back up.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [voxmyriad](http://voxmyriad.tumblr.com) for more idiot mercenaries <3


End file.
